Page 16 of More Than Nothing
The girls met several times a week at Diner 43. Summer’s open, friendly face had never been open or friendly toward Elenie, even if neither woman was outwardly rude. They were polite but reticent, and that was it. If sometimes Elenie’s chest ached from hearing them laugh, seeing their closeness as they swapped news and chatter, well, that was something she’d learned to deal with. Being on the outside wasn’t a new experience for her.
Summer cleared her throat, a flush high on her cheekbones. “Hey. I want to thank you for looking after Dougie when he had his accident. He said you were so calm and helpful.” Her fingers fidgeted around the handle of a teaspoon.
“I hope he’s doing OK?” Elenie ignored the thanks, unsure of the right response.
“Better by the day—and a little embarrassed, I think, which is nuts. He says there’s nothing cool about being shot with a BB gun by kids.”
“Would have been worse if they shot him in the ass.” Caitlyn’s dry aside made Elenie’s mouth twitch.
“Sorry.” Summer gestured to her friend. “This is Caitlyn. We were at school together.”
Elenie’s eyes flicked to the redhead, then involuntarily down to her stomach and back up again.
“Yup, due in the fall,” Caitlyn confirmed with an eye roll and a lazy drawl. “I’m praying for a baby so good it teaches me all the shit I need to know.”
Elenie relaxed a fraction, enjoying her easy humor. “I hear parenting’s a piece of cake. I mean, how hard can it be to take one hundred percent responsibility for a small human?”
Caitlyn gave a guarded smile and took a huge bite of brownie.
“I guess Officer Taggart’s still off work?” Elenie asked, for want of something else to say.
“Roman’s told him he can go in for desk duty next week,” Summer said. “Dougie’s not good at resting. He’s bitching about not getting the dressing wet yet and pacing around our apartment, threatening home improvements.” She winced. “Last time he tried to change a washer on our kitchen faucet, we had to clean the dishes in the bathroom for a week.”
“More than three hundred people each year are killed falling off a ladder,” Elenie remembered. “Tell him he should quit while he’s ahead.”
Summer and Caitlyn blinked in unison. “Weird fact,” stated Summer.
Delia yelled Elenie’s name across the diner. “Hey! I’ve got orders stacking up here!”
“I’m so sorry. I’d better—”
“No, I’m sorry.” Summer gave a grimace of understanding. “We didn’t mean to keep you.”
“It was nice to meet you properly anyway.” Elenie shared a small smile with the two girls.
“Maybe, if you were free sometime, would you like to come out for a drink with Cait and me? One evening—perhaps Friday next week?” Summer looked like she even meant it. Caitlyn’s expression didn’t change.
Walking back toward Delia’s impatient glare, Elenie raised one hand in an awkward wave as a swirl of warmth spread through her chest. “I’d like that, thanks.”
Would it happen? She doubted it. But an unfamiliar bounce stayed in her step for the rest of the day.
She heard the bite of strong words the moment she opened the front door and her jaw clenched. For a second, Elenie considered going somewhere else, anywhere else, but she was tired, and gray clouds, heavy in the sky outside, threatened an evening rainstorm.
An object hit the floor of the living room with a bang.
“I’m not asking, I’m fuckin’ telling you. If I don’t have it in forty-eight hours, I’ll be paying you a visit. And I won’t be bringing apple fuckin’ cobbler.” Frank’s ominous monologue rolled through the small house, thick and dangerous. She couldn’t hear anyone else; he must be on the phone.
Gripping her hoodie close to her chest, Elenie moved soundlessly down the hall and darted up the stairs to her room, closing the door behind her. Dean’s bedroom door was also shut, but the lack of music told her he wasn’t inside. With any luck, they’d think she was out too. No one paid much attention to her coming or going. Being forgotten or ignored was usually the best-case scenario. And she still had one last new book from the library so the evening wouldn’t drag.
Getting anything from the kitchen was unwise in the short term. When Frank was kicking off, staying out of his way was essential. Fortunately, in the pocket of her hoodie, she’d tucked a napkin-wrapped pecan pastry from the diner.
Who needs a balanced diet anyway.
The irony never escaped Elenie that, despite smelling of fried food almost all the time—the combined scent of cooking fats and caffeine clinging to her hair and her clothes, stuck in her nostrils 24/7—her stomach was rarely full. And neither were the cupboards in the kitchen. They’d never been a “wholesome meal around the table” kind of family.
One day, she swore to herself, she’d have a place of her own. An oasis of calm, cleanliness, and fresh groceries. She’d get so far away from this house that it would only be a bad memory in asea of contentment and exciting experiences. In the meantime, she’d plan, manifest, dream, and scheme her way toward financial independence and emotional emancipation. Things would change. She’d make them change.
Roman Martinez had not been wrong when he’d said she deserved better.
